


Ash Blossom

by SquiggldyPiggldy



Category: Original Work
Genre: Heroes, New story, Villains
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 03:14:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26499952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SquiggldyPiggldy/pseuds/SquiggldyPiggldy
Summary: In the streets of Argenwyn, a strange figure is persued by an old accuaintence. The interaction doesn't end well for the latter.





	1. The Boy In The Rain

**Author's Note:**

> This, my lovelies, is the prologue to a story I've been writing for quite some time now. I've never posted any of it, so you're probably one of the very first to ever see it! I hope you enjoy my little stories, but I do have one very small problem... I don't have a name for the darned thing XD if anyone comes up with one, pop it in the comments, cause heaven knows I need a Name XD

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the streets of Argenwyn, a strange figure is persued by an old accuaintence. The interaction doesn't end well for the latter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This, my lovelies, is the prologue to a story I've been writing for quite some time now. I've never posted any of it, so you're probably one of the very first to ever see it! I hope you enjoy my little stories, but I do have one very small problem... I don't have a name for the darned thing XD if anyone comes up with one, pop it in the comments, cause heaven knows I need a Name XD

Rain splattered against the streets of Argenwyn, an ever so small town with very few inhabitants, all of whom were awfully friendly and kind.

There weren't very many houses, but neither were there very few, one would say there were just the perfect amount for any town or village.

Everyone in the village had probably been asleep for many hours now.

All

But one

On a long street, close to the outskirts of town, there walked a thin, hooded figure.

The rain spat against the black armour clutching his thin frame, and the wind ripped at his cloak, seemingly begging for his face to be revealed to the storm, but alas, its attempts were made in vain.

He trudged along through the rain and wind, every now and then removing a strange object from his satchel and studying it for a tarry, only to put it right back a few seconds later.

A sudden gust of wind ripped the hood from the figure's head, revealing the face of a young boy. Drops of water spattered against his pale skin, His grey-green eyes quickly scanning the area to make sure nobody had seen him, his almost long, dark blonde hair being swept back by the wind. He gasped.

He had been followed.

He twisted around and seemed to appear immediately in front of his persuer. He swiftly struck the man in the jaw with the palm of his hand, making the stranger buckle backward and fall over. He hit his head on the pavement and lost consciousness.

"I'm sorry," the boy whispered, kneeling down next to the man and removing the glove from his right hand, which he placed upon the man's forehead. "but no one can know,"

Silky silvery strands of an ancient magic drifted from the boy's fingers, and as he drew back his hand, he held a ball of the shimmering strands, showing the man's memory of seeing the boy.

"not yet," he said, crushing the ball of light into stardust.

He pulled the man to shelter, and propped him up against the wall.

"I can't let anyone know about me just yet. I can't exist yet. No one must yet know,"

He left the man there, and began his journey once again to his mark.

An old cottage at the far end of town.

His new home


	2. A Quiet Place

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the boy discovers some interesting things about the abandoned building he's decided to reside in. Enchantments, confusions, and a good night's sleep is basically everything that happens in this "chapter"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I say "chapter" because really I have no idea what I'm doing. Send help. And probably some kind of profound tutorial XD  
> Also, try to ignore the tags, I must reiterate I have ABSOLUTELY NO IDEA what I'm doing. Cheers to success through failure *chugs a pint of apple juice*

The floorboards creaked beneath the boy's feet as he padded along the corridor. His cloak dragged behind him, adding dust and dirt to the collection of rips and stains on its edge. The house was dark, and a little chilly, but the fire burning in the boy's palm filled him with warmth. And there was a smell... A smell as if, many years ago perhaps, a delicious something was being baked by a loved one, like a cake, or pie or tart. Perhaps even cookies of some kind, but that may have been a stretch.

As he was about to turn the corner to what he assumed would be the living room, an odd square on the wall cought his attention. It was dusty, like everything else in this place, and upon closer inspection, it really wasn't all too impressive. So why had the boy been drawn to it?

"... Enchanted," he whispered, taking his burning palm and gently pushing it into the square.

A surge of cold rushed through the house, blowing the dust and cobwebs away, and replacing them with warmth and light. This was MUCH better than his tiny hand flame.

He peered around the corner, and saw a small but comfortable living room. A soft couch, a wooden coffee table with a notepad, quill and inkwell, and two mugs; one white and one a rather dark blue, and a rocking chair with an unfinished knitting project laying on it. even a fireplace was burning warm at the end of the cozy room. This place felt terribly familiar to him... Far too familiar. He sat down at the table and pulled the writing utencils toward himself.

"... I wonder," he whispered to himself "What... What is my name?"

He remembered having a name... In fact, he remembered having many names. If only he could remember what it was. Forgetting one's name is much like walking into a room and forgetting why you walked in there in the first place. You know you walked there for a reason, but the reason itself seemed to have forgotten to stay. And, just like forgetting the reason for entering a room, forgetting one's name was highly frustrating. Nothing he could think of gave him even a slight idea of what his name was, except perhaps a number, Six, but what on earth did that mean? Six letters?

"how about... Arakai?" he wrote it down, counting the letters as he went.

Akarai certainly sounded like a wonderful name, but not for him. What about Steven? He wrote it down. That's a pretty normal name... But it didn't fit him. Jaredy? No, that sounded like a mother's nickname for her third child. Nothing. He thought so hard about what his name could possibly be, but nothing came to him. After around a half hour, he gave up trying to find his name and sat dejectedly in the sofa.

He gazed into the fire, searching it for some kind of hint to his name, scanning the flames licking around the wood for some kind of profound answer, but none came. He closed his eyes and let out a deep, long sigh.

"searching for answers in a dying flame?" he asked himself, leaning his head back. "Reaper, what has become of you?"

Reaper... That had six letters. Maybe that was his true name, not just the name the people of this town had been calling him for the past little while. He doubted it, but at this point it was the closest thing he could get to a name.

He sighed again. His eyelids began to feel heavy, and he realised he hadn't slept in days, due to constantly being followed and tracked down, and attacked by those mysterious persuers. He was constantly on high alert, always scanning every alleyway, always glancing over his shoulder, always in a state of anxiety. But this town, this place, this little cottage, it made him feel at home. Maybe many years ago he had had family who lived here, that would explain the inexplicable Comfort he felt here.

He took off his shoes and shirt, and draped his heavy cloak over himself as a makeshift blanket, and used a few couch cushions as pillows. He nestled himself up into the pillows and closed his eyes. He would explore the rest of this strange but inviting house in the morning, but tonight, the restless, Confused, scared boy, he would sleep. A long, deep sleep, without bad dreams or bad thoughts to keep him awake.

After all, in a house like this, who wouldn't sleep so wonderfully?


	3. Another Rainy Afternoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well howdy again folks! So, this one was pretty weird. I'm probably gonna make a couple changes to it, but for now, I think it's okay to put up. And yes, the more observant of you will have already noticed the lack of a summary for this one. Not gonna lie, it's probably gonna stay like that, so I hope you don't miss spoilers too much XD anyways, I hope you enjoy ^w^

It had already been a few weeks since the boy's arrival in Argenwyn, though the rain hadn't stopped falling much. Everywhere he looked, there were people hiding underneath strange waterproof domes with a stick coming right down the middle. Some of them even curved around at the end. He had also noticed that the strange dome stick things would fold themselves up whenever the weilder went indoors. He found these dome sticks fascinating, and would always watch anyone holding one very carefully, especially when they'd go in or outdoors. Though highly intrigued by these dome sticks, he was confused as to why the people were so afraid of the rain. Perhaps they thought the rain would hurt them if it touched them? He couldn't make heads nor tails of it all, but he didn't mind at all.

"uhhhh... Stranger? You can I help you?"

The boy turned to see a tall man with a flaming red mustache looking down at him.

He had been so cought up watching the dome sticks that he had forgotten where he was. In a building called "bar," where they served food and drink to those who entered.

"um... Yes. Yes I believe you can, my friend," he said, turning in his seat and standing. "What on earth are those dome sticks everyone's carrying around? What are they for? Are the people here afraid of the rain?"

Peered out the window, and laughed, placing a hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Not from around here, are ya?" he chuckled, wiping a tear from his eye. "Those 'dome sticks' are called _umbrellas_, and no, the people here aren't afraid of the rain, we just don't like being cold and wet. You know, if your core temperature goes too low for too long you can get very sick! That's why we do it. Not so where you're from?"

The boy thought for a bit. Truthfully, he had no idea what it was like where he was from.

"I suppose I've never been particularly long in any place," is what he settled on saying.

"aaahh, a Nomad? Yes, we do get a lot of you around these parts, never stay very long... And usually don't carry weapons," the tall man said, gesturing toward the boy's bow and quiver, which were resting against the chair he had been sitting in moments ago.

"Yes well... I suppose you can never be too sure, can you?"

The man laughed again.

"Certainly not, young one, certainly not. But there's no need to be afraid around these parts, there's not a single soul here who would lay even a finger on you." The tall man assured him, leaning on the table. "You're new here, aren't you?" 

The boy nodded. 

"well, I'll give you the basic rundown. Over yonder is a 'grocery store,' it's kinda new round here, but it's very convenient to have all the essentials In one place, rather than have em all in a bunch of different stalls like we used to have," the man laughed again. He went on for a little while, naming a few buildings and recommending a few others. But it was a small town after all, and soon enough run out of shops to recommend.

"And then, well, then we come right back here to the scrap rat, finest inn and bar in town. Say, do you have a place to stay while you're here?"

The boy nodded, and pointed toward the run down house he'd been living in for the past three weeks.

The man gazed through the window. His eyebrows furrowed together and he asked what house number the boy meant. 

"house Number 118," 

The entire pub had gone silent.

"I'm sorry... What did you say your name was?"

A name? The boy didn't have a name, he was just... Just an entity. He glanced around, searching for a clue. His eyes locked on his bow. What was it made of again? Oh... That's right...

"Ash. My name is Ash." 

Ashwood. That's what it was. His bow was made from the wood of an Ash three.

"well then, Ash, I'd like to formally welcome you to Argenwyn. We have some legends around these parts if you wouldn't mind me explaining. And our most revered one happens to originate from your house," the man said. He had gone quite pale since Ash had mentioned the house number. 

"it begins," he said, taking a seat, and gesturing for Ash to do the same. "With an Elf whose body could never die, and the most powerful enchantress of her time,"


End file.
